On compassion: or why I am so proud of my son

This is an old picture of  eldest son Rohan, his arrival into this world completely changed my life.

For the first ten years or so of his life Rohan and I were close, almost inseparable.  Yet for the last five plus years we have drifted apart partly because I have labelled him as “inconsiderate and mean”.    Yesterday, my son tore this story into shreds before my eyes.

I had just parked the car at the local fish and chip shop and Rohan went to buy fish and chips for the family.  Whilst he was in the shop an old woman walked slowly with a stroller into the shop.  In the car I could not understand what was taking Rohan so long as he had already been served.

Some minutes later he came out of the shop and walked with the old woman.  When they got to the road, he checked for traffic, held her hand and then walked her across the road and toward her home.

I also found out that he had given the old woman some money as she did not have enough money to pay for her order.

When I asked him why he had done what he had done.  He simply said that he felt sorry for the old woman.  She was alone, she found it difficult to walk, she was partially blind, she did not have enough money….And that had upset him and so he set out to help her as best as he could.

I am so proud of you son.  And I apologise for losing sight of the wonder that is you.  I hope that you will forgive me.

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